


Darling you and me, we can take the world

by stealing-jasons-job (changingthefairy_tale)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke, But Not Much, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, The 100 (TV) Season 7 Speculation, that's pretty much it, there's a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changingthefairy_tale/pseuds/stealing-jasons-job
Summary: "You're in an endless desert with a vast purple sky. A hand reaches out for your own. Whose is it?" The man Clarke knows as Levitt asks soothingly as she struggles against her restraints."Go float yourself," she spits out.Her eyes scan the room around her. Bill is standing behind Levitt, looking smug. Bellamy and Doucette are on the far side of the room.She locks eyes with Bellamy.Stop this. I'm begging you to stop this._________Or, a S7 Spec where they torture Clarke with M-Cap and Bellamy finally breaks. Warning: Smut ahead.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 35
Kudos: 296





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mylifeiskara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeiskara/gifts), [historyofbellarke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/historyofbellarke/gifts).



"You're in an endless desert with a vast purple sky. A hand reaches out for your own. Whose is it?" The man Clarke knows as Levitt asks soothingly as she struggles against her restraints.

"Go float yourself," she spits out.

Her eyes scan the room around her. Bill is standing behind Levitt, looking smug. Bellamy and Doucette are on the far side of the room.

She locks eyes with Bellamy.

_Stop this. I'm begging you to stop this._

For a split second, she thinks he might. She can see it in his eyes, the crack in the wall he built around his heart when he was on Etherea. But then he just looks away, breaking eye contact and any hope Clarke has of getting out of his chair.

The needle from above her descends, and she grits her teeth knowing what was coming.

Octavia had warned her about the M-Cap machine, that struggling against it would be painful and potentially life-threatening depending on how far Cadogan wanted to push her mind's limits.

But if Cadogan found out that Madi once had the Flame, that it was still out there on Sanctum for him to find... she can't let that happen.

Pick a mantra. You need a mantra to hold onto. Something you can say out loud, a happy memory you can cling to that knocks out all of the others.

"It's time to begin."

The machine whirs to life, and Clarke can feel it pulling at the edge of her mind. A fuzziness penetrates the edge of her vision, intruding into her thoughts.

She thinks of her and Wells playing chess on the Ark, each being coached by their fathers. Carefree and happy in their youth. _Get out of my head._

The fuzziness recedes for a moment, but then it's back with a harder intensity to prod at her memories.

She thinks of teaching Monty and Jasper how to play soccer during one of the rare respites between grounder attacks during their first months on the ground, Jasper's excited whoop when he finally scored a goal. _Get out of my head._

"Higher," she hears Cadogan's voice instruct Levitt. He turns a dial on his screen, and she immediately feels the pressure increase. It feels like her ears need to pop but can't, and she winces as she grabs onto her chair for support.

_Protect Madi._

She thinks of the moment she found out Bellamy was alive after Mount Weather, the pure relief that flooded her system. She ran and jumped into his arms, and that was the first time the ground had ever felt like home. _Get out of my head._

The pressure recedes momentarily, and she relaxes on impulse. But as soon as the tension leaves her body, Levitt turns the dial again. This time she's not ready, and it overtakes her system.

She can feel it ground itself into the roots of her psyche, searching for its target.

"Where do we want to start, sir?" Levitt asks.

"Let's start with the Flame."

Clarke shuts her eyes, focusing on her breathing. What's the technique Murphy taught her? _In, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three, four, five._

She can feel the invisible hands of the M-Cap sorting through her mind as Levitt manipulates her brain. The memories they are sifting through are playing across the back of her eyelids like an old movie recording she used to watch with her father on the Ark.

A young and arrogant version of the man she once thought of as the love of her life smirks at a naive Clarke. _The only way the Ark is going to think I'm dead, is if I'm actually dead._ _Brave Princess._

Smoke rises from the treeline after the bombs went off at the bridge. _I am become death, destroyer of worlds. I know who Oppenheimer is._

Anya lays motionless on the Dropship floor as Clarke stares down her peers. _We are not grounders._

Bellamy's arms encase her in an embrace — bloody and bruised, but safe. _Now that's something I never thought I'd see._

Her and Lexa ride side by side as they prepare for war against the Mountain. _Love is weakness._

Bellamy and Clarke pull that lever hand in hand. _Together._

She kisses his cheek goodbye outside the gates of Arkadia. _If you need forgiveness, I'll give that to you. I bear it so they don't have to._

Clarke screams at Lexa while guards pull her back from the former Commander. _You wanted Wanheda, you got her._

The first time she realized Bellamy needed her as much as she needed him. _You left me._

Scene after scene plays, and she's helpless to stop it as she struggles against her bindings.

"You don't get to take these from me," she grits her teeth against the intrusion. Heat is rising up her neck from the strain of resisting the machine.

"Clarke, things will be easier if you just give us the memory we're looking for. I don't want to hurt you." She opens her eyes to see Levitt leaned over her, concern etched on his face. She can't tell if it's genuine or not. Octavia seems to trust him, but she isn't sure if she does.

"If she wants to suffer, let her," Cadogan says calmly from his place behind Levitt. The idea of this selfish excuse of a cult leader digging through her memories, her private thoughts and observations, is repulsive. She grinds her teeth against the intrusion of the machine, but Levitt just turns it up higher.

It feels like a blow to the head, a ringing growing louder in her ears as pain ricochets inside her mind.

"Ahh!" she cries out as it overtakes her.

"Shepherd, she won't be able to give us answers if she's dead," Bellamy's voice cuts through the pain. She can't focus on anything happening around her, so she doesn't know what exactly happens. But the pain dulls to a mild ache after a moment, and she relaxes against the headrest.

_In, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three, four, five._

"Okay, again."

The pain comes back, but this time she actively fights against it. God, that makes it worse.

_Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head._

It's not working, she can see them sifting through her memories like drawings in her sketchbook until they get to the start of what they're looking for.

She watches her own hand reach out for Bellamy's as she sits in that chair. She feels the nightblood coursing through her veins for the first time. She sees the City of Light in its full glory, her goodbye to Lexa, the clans rejecting her rule, the conclave.

"But what happens to The Flame next? Are there any residual memories from the Flame lodged in her psyche?" Cadogan asks, obviously growing impatient with their lack of progress.

Sweat droplets have formed on Clarke's forehead, and she can feel the dampness from the hair sticking to the back of her neck. Everything is blinding, the pain all-encompassing.

_You have such a big heart, Bellamy._

_I have you for that._

They are about to get to Madi. And once they get to Madi, they'd eventually get to the Flame again, to her having the Flame. A mantra, she needs a mantra.

"Head and the heart." Her voice is hoarse and weak.

The pain intensifies.

"The head and the heart!" she forces out, louder this time as she braces herself against another onslaught of pain.

Instead of letting them see Madi, she forces herself to think about the only other thing she cared to remember about her time on the ground.

_Hey Bellamy. I don't know if you can hear me. It's been 136 days since Praimfaya. I'm not saying Earth was a cakewalk before the reactors melted, but I would give anything for our Dropship days right about now._

The dial turns again.

"The head and the heart," she repeats, voice more steady this time than the others.

_Do you ever wonder what would have happened between us if it weren't for praimfaya? Would we have ever talked about...whatever it was between us? I think about it a lot. I know, I know. There's no use in wondering what if. But it's not like I have much else to think down here these days. It's pretty much just survive and think about Bellamy. You didn't need to know that. I'm going to hang up now._

"Stop it. We're not getting anywhere. Let's pick back up tomorrow," Bellamy says from his place across the room. Her eyes open despite the pain to meet his. She can see the crack again, that tiny fissure forming in his faith.

"If you need to leave, Disciple, you can. But for the good of all mankind, this must be done."

The pain intensifies even further, and she can taste blood from where she's bitten the inside of her cheek. But she refuses to let go of Bellamy's stare. See what they are doing to someone you love. See what they are doing to someone who loves you, she thinks bitterly.

"Head and the heart."

_God, I miss you. I miss you so much I physically ache. Last night, I had a dream that you were here with me. We lived together in a cabin down closer to the stream. You braided my hair for me before bed, and we took turns reading aloud to each other. It was from The Odyssey. I know you were always partial to The Iliad, but there's something hopeful about someone fighting like hell to get back home to those he loves. I hope that's what you're doing right now. I never had the guts to tell you how I felt when you were here, but I promise I won't make that mistake again. Just come home to me, okay?_

Slowly, she starts to see her Bellamy again. His face remains impassive, but his eyes... those are the eyes she fell in love with. The softness that's hidden beneath the layers of steel the universe forced him to put between himself and the rest of the world.

"Fuck!" she nearly screams as fire explodes behind her eyes. She squeezes them shut, tears immediately falling down her cheeks. It burns, everything burns.

She can't feel anything but the heat consuming her, and she knows in her bones that this is it. This is where she dies.

But at least they wouldn't get what they need from her.

With every last ounce of strength she has, she chants.

"The head and the heart. The head and the heart. The head and the heart."

The light is fading, and she can feel herself falling. She's not sure where, but the pain is receding, so she's grateful for it. For a moment, she thinks she hears a voice call out. _Enough_ , she thinks it says. But she can't quite grasp it.

Instead, she lets the darkness overtake her.


	2. Chapter 2

When Clarke opens her eyes again, she's no longer in the M-Cap room. She actually doesn't know where she is. Her wrists are no longer tied, and she flexes her hands to help get rid of some of the soreness there.

She's lying in the center of a four-poster bed, her jacket off with a blanket draped across her.

"You're awake." A voice startles her, and her eyes struggle to make out the person sitting in the shadows across the room. But as her eyes adjust, she makes out the piercing eyes and dark curls.

"What happened, Bellamy? Where am I?" she asks hesitantly. The haze has left her mind completely, but she has no memory of what happened after the pain stopped.

"The Shepherd — uh, Cadogan — decided you needed rest before another session." But she can tell by his tone that's not the full story.

She remembers someone calling out right before she blacked out, and the realization dawns on her.

"You stopped them." Clarke says it as a statement, not a question. The way he runs a hand through his hair tells her that she's not wrong. "Why?"

"Clarke..."

"No," she says harshly after he trails off. "You told them I didn't have the Flame, knowing that was the only reason I was still alive. You watched as they tortured me for memories, memories you know would put Madi in danger. You were willing to do all of that, so what happened that made you stop them?"

He stays silent, and Clarke feels her anger rise. She pulls herself to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the side as she dares Bellamy to look up at her.

"I deserve a goddamn explanation here, Bellamy," she snaps. That does it — his eyes whip up to meet hers.

"Don't," he warns.

"No, I want to know what happened in M-Cap. Actually, strike that. I want to know what happened to you on Etherea that turned you into the self-serving prick I haven't seen since our first days on the ground. I want to know what turned the Bellamy Blake I knew-"

"You almost died!"

His voice thunders through the room, silencing her. Their gazes are locked, and neither one of them so much as take a breath for a long moment.

Bellamy is the one to break first, dropping his head into his hands.

"You almost died," he says again, softer this time. "First during Praimfaya. Then again in Sanctum. And both times, it was my fault." His voice cracks on the last word.

"Doucette showed me a way to make the pain stop, and I took it. But then with you in the M-Cap... your heart rate was going wild, and I just couldn't stop thinking of the flatline of the machine back at Gabriel's."

Clarke blinks, not expecting any of that. But then again, there's something about the darkness that's always opened the flood gates between them. Under starry nights and in the shadows of bunkers and caves, that's where they always shared their truths with each other.

She slowly eases off the bed, padding barefoot over to where he sits in an oversized chair in the corner of the room. He looks up at her when she gets close, and his eyes are filled with so much pain and brokenness.

"I'm right here," she tells him.

"But you're not," he sighs, leaning his head forward to rest against her stomach. She combs fingers through his hair, hands hesitant not to break the trance they were in. The curls are soft, and she relishes in the feel of them slipping between her fingers — a sensation she hasn't felt outside of her dreams in over a century.

"You keep almost dying on me, and I just...I couldn't do it again," he whispers at last. She moves a hand to his cheek, forcing him to look up at her.

"I'm right here," she repeats, pouring every ounce of emotion she can manage into the look she gives him.

In an instant, his hands have pulled her hips down into his lap. She goes willingly, and their mouths crash together.

It's messy, and it's desperate, but god if it's not the best thing Clarke's ever felt.

His hands span her waist, and hers twist into his hair, pulling him closer to her. His teeth graze her bottom lip, and she opens for him, his tongue darting out to taste her.

Clarke wasn't one to believe in fireworks going off after a first kiss or life-affirming make sessions. Kissing was just kissing, but damn if she wasn't having some kind of revelation with Bellamy's mouth on hers.

He explores her mouth with his tongue while his hands do the same across her body. She sinks into him, wanting to be closer, needing to be closer.

She gives as good as she gets, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth before using her tongue to soothe the bite. Her hands roam across his back, reveling in the feel of his taut muscles beneath her hands.

"Clarke," he gasps when she tilts her hips forward into his, grinding herself against him. He stands up, grabbing her thighs and lifting her as if she were nothing. Her legs wind around his hips as he walks to the bed.

He lays her down, climbing up between her legs to hover over her. They look into each other's eyes for a moment, both catching their breaths.

This. This is what she imagined every night for six years back on Earth. Looking up into those brown eyes, tracing the constellations of his freckles across his cheeks, seeing the love she felt so deeply reflected back at her.

"I dreamed of this," she whispers into the darkness as he trails kisses down the side of her throat. She tilts her head to give him better access.

"Tell me," he murmurs across her skin, continuing a path down. He shifts back, pulling her shirt off and tossing to the side before kissing his way across the swell of one breast as his hand cupped the other over her bra.

She arches her back into his touch. Reaching behind her, Clarke undoes the clasp to remove it. Bellamy's eyes darken as they zero in on her naked chest, and he immediately leans in to take one nipple into his mouth.

His tongue laves against her skin, and she feels the wetness pool between her legs. God, she wants. It's been so long she's just _wanted._

"This. Your mouth on my skin, my hands in your hair. All of it," she admits. He turns his attention to her other breast, and she wraps her legs tighter around him, trying to pull him down into the cradle of her hips.

But then he pauses, pulling back to look at her again.

"Are you sure?"

She's never been more sure about anything. She doesn't know what tomorrow will bring or how they'll make it out of this mess, but she knows what she wants tonight. She knows she doesn't want to go another day without knowing what it feels like to be unequivocally his.

Clarke nods, lifting her shoulders off the bed to capture his mouth with her own. That seems to do away with the rest of his hesitation, because suddenly he is everywhere.

He places open-mouthed kisses down the valley between her breasts to her abdomen as his hands explore every part of her. They skim up and down her sides, they grip the outside of her thighs, they dip into the waistband of her leather leggings to pull them down.

Her underwear goes with it, and she's naked underneath him.

She wants to sketch the look on his face, commit it to memory to never forget. He's breathing heavily, and his eyes are traveling over every inch of her. He looks like he wants to treasure her and devour her all at once.

Suddenly, it occurs to her that he is overdressed. Her hands lift up the white disciple shirt, throwing it a little harder than strictly required off the bed. She wastes no time, immediately moving to his pants to pull those down as far as she can reach before using her feet to get them the rest of the way off.

Now they're even.

Clarke has seen Bellamy practically naked many times over the years. Between their first weeks on the ground when he seemed allergic to wearing a shirt to the countless times she's had to stitch up an assortment of body parts.

But she's never seen him like this. The shadows in the dark room play across his chiseled chest. The sprinkling of hair there leads downward over his defined abs, lower to his cock. Her eyes shamelessly roam over him, this beautiful man before her.

When her gaze makes its way back up to his own, he's staring at her with the same hunger.

"See something you like?" he smirks. She rolls her eyes, but she can't stop the smile that tilts at the corners of her mouth.

"Why don't you come here and find out?"

His mouth is on hers once more, tongue diving inside without preamble. The skin on skin contact has her electrified. She's so ridiculously turned on, and he hasn't even touched her, yet.

As if reading her mind, one of his hands skims down between her thighs. Goosebumps erupt over her skin, and she takes a breath in anticipation.

At the first swipe of his thumb over her clit, she releases a moan. It's been so long since anyone has touched her like this. Her one night stand with Cillian was fun, but they'd skipped right to the main event, alcohol fueling their fire.

But Bellamy seems intent on taking his time figuring out exactly what makes Clarke tick.

"You're so wet, Clarke. I haven't even touched you yet, and you're dripping for me."

"Bellamy," she whines, her hips tilting to get more pressure. He obliges, rubbing firm circles where she needs it most. He has her keening into his hand in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

"This what you want?" he asks, voice hoarse between kisses to her throat and chest.

"Yes, _please_ ," she gasps as he pinches her clit between to fingers, too desperate for him to care about how wrecked she sounds.

"Tell me what feels good," he whispers into her ear right as he pushes two fingers into her. The intrusion makes her gasp, pleasure spiking at the stretch.

"That. Ohmygod, that," she breathes out, desperate. He pumps his fingers in and out of her, finding that spot deep inside of her that her own fingers can't reach. She imagined his hands touching her like this so many lonely nights, and they most certainly did not disappoint.

"Me too, Princess. Me, too." Shit, she must have said that last part out loud.

Clarke can't find it within herself to care, too far gone with the pleasure building. She moans at the sensation, the pressure mounting hard and fast inside of her.

"That's it, I've got you. Come for me, Clarke."

His words push her over the ledge, and she cries out as her walls clench around his fingers. She's lost in a sea of sensation, wave after wave hitting her. His fingers fuck her through the orgasm until the aftershocks subside and she's panting to catch her breath.

"That was so hot," he says, kissing her neck as she comes down from the high.

But she's not satisfied, yet. She pushes back against him, rolling them over so that she's hovering above him.

His erection juts into her stomach, and she takes him into her hands. Bellamy sucks in a breath, and she smiles at the reaction she pulls from him.

He helps steady her hips as she rises above him. She guides his cock to her entrance, sinking down on him slowly. Clarke's mouth forms a silent "o" as he bottoms out inside of her.

He's larger than anyone she's ever had sex with before, not that her list is overwhelmingly long. Between her constant lust for him and their propensity for getting into wars, the opportunity hasn't presented itself often.

The wait was definitely worth it, though. She pauses a second to let herself accommodate him before lifting up and sinking back down. Clarke takes him easily, slick from arousal and her orgasm.

"You feel so good inside of me," she moans, head thrown back in pleasure as she rides him.

"God, you look so sexy taking my cock like that." His hands reach up to cup her breasts, and she lets out another guttural sound at how good it feels to have his rough hands scrape across her sensitive nipples while she rocks against him.

A few more strokes, and Bellamy's patience runs out. He flips them back over, never pulling out of her.

"My turn," he whispers, voice filled with all sorts of dirty promises that Clarke can't wait for him to fulfill.

He pulls almost all the way out of her before thrusting hard.

"Fuck," she cries out. His cock hits the perfect spot over and over again as he slams into her. There is no finesse in his movements, and Clarke loves the knowledge that she's driven him to this level of desperation.

With every stroke, Clarke's pleasure climbs higher.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are right now, blissed out on my cock? Huh?"

"Bellamy," she pants, one hand anchored in the bedsheets above her head and the other with a vice gripe on Bellamy's curls.

She pulls him down to her, needing to feel his mouth on hers. One hand reaches down to push her leg up against her chest, changing the angle. He hits the _perfect_ spot deep inside her, and she sees stars in her vision.

Without warning, another orgasm rockets through her. She cries out his name over and over, her nails digging into his skin. He hisses with the pain, but it only spurs him on to go faster.

He fucks her hard, drawing out her release until she feels his hips shutter above her. He comes inside of her, calling out her name. She never wants to stop hearing his deep voice say her name, strained and hoarse with pleasure.

Bellamy half collapses on top of her, maneuvering so that he doesn't crush her. They trade lazy kisses as they both come back down from the high of their orgasms.

Clarke knows she has to move soon — she should go pee and clean up. But her limbs feel like jelly, and she's enjoying the feel of Bellamy's body on top of hers too much to let it go just yet. So instead, she keeps her legs wrapped around his hips and rub soft circles at the base of his scalp while he nuzzles his nose into the spot where her neck meets her collarbone.

But the longer they lay there together, the longer the question nags at the back of her mind.

"I can _hear_ you thinking, Clarke."

"Was it real?" she asks quietly, her voice betraying the fear that's now bubbling up in her chest. Bellamy came back from Etherea different, and them having sex doesn't undo all of that. She'd live with the consequences, whatever they were, but she needed to know.

He lifts his head to look at her. "Of course it is. The only thing that I know for sure is real is this, us."

"Then what now?" There's so much to figure out, so much to do. Cadogan won't stop until he has the key, which means Madi and everyone in Sanctum is still in danger. They needed to figure out how the Flame plays into the anomaly and this "last war" Cadogan won't shut up about. They needed to prevent their friends from being sent to die on Penance or Nakara for their crimes.

Bellamy's lips capture hers in a slow, sweet kiss, cutting off her spiraling train of thought. He feels like coming home, and she melts into him. She may not know what lies ahead, but she does know that they'll make it through this. They always do — together.

"Now we figure out how to live."

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Want more S7 angsty spec? Or wish I'd stop writing one-shots and finish my WIPs (which, valid)? Reminder that I am participating in the Bellarke Fic for BLM initiative. You can donate any amount to any organization that supports the BLM movement or any social justice cause you are passionate about, and I'll match the donation and write a prompt of your choosing. I'm also allowing WIP chapter updates as prompts, so feel free to give me a metaphorical kick in the ass to crank out chapters faster (and to prioritize these chapters since prompts are currently taking precedence in my todo list) by checking out the Bellarke Fic 4 BLM cardd!
> 
> \----
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, kudos, comments and (civil) feedback is much appreciated! 🧡


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